


it doesn't matter more than you let it

by songtofly



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 07:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4129299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songtofly/pseuds/songtofly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The ones you have lost push you gently forward."</p>
            </blockquote>





	it doesn't matter more than you let it

When Oikawa first reads the article, he laughs so hard there are tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

Iwaizumi doesn't understand what is going on; Oikawa has always read volleyball magazines with the most serious expressions, a focus Iwaizumi himself could never shake off of Oikawa. Usually, when he did so, Iwaizumi didn't interrupt.

But there he is, laughing loudly, closing the magazine around one of his fingers to keep the page marked as he lowers it on lap. Iwaizumi looks at him, silently setting his pen on the table next to his homework filled textbooks.

"Hey, Oikawa," he tries, "what is it?"

But Oikawa doesn't stop. Iwaizumi notices the redness spreading along his throat, his veins obvious as he throws his head back. His laugh is so delirious that Iwaizumi feels himself worry.

He stands up and walks around the coffee table in his room, closes the gap between them and crouches in front of him. He doesn't wait for Oikawa to stop laughing before he slips his finger next to Oikawa's to keep the page from getting lost. It's not like if he asked, Oikawa would answer. Not in this state anyway.

Oikawa doesn't fight him, lets him take the magazine. Iwaizumi sighs as he glances at him one last time, a frown on his face.

He opens it, and the headline is as big as his shock.

_'The Mighty White Eagle has fallen.'_

_'Rising volleyball star Ushijima, one of Japan's under 18 volleyball representatives, will no longer stand on a court. As one of his coaches has lately disclosed during an interview, the injury he sustained during a practice match has...'_

He slowly closes the magazine. Oikawa is still laughing. This time, his hands are covering his eyes.

-

Oikawa doesn't talk about it, so Iwaizumi doesn't ask.

When Coach Mizoguchi announces that they are going to visit former Shiratorizawa Captain Ushijima at the hospital he is staying at, Iwaizumi notices the muscle in Oikawa's jaw twitch.

Iwaizumi catches words like long standing rival teams, how Shiratorizawa will never be the same now that it has lost one of its strongest pillars, and that Aobajousai truly regrets this.

-

"I don't have anything to say to him," Oikawa says when they reach room 111, "I'll wait for all of you here."

"Oikawa-" Iwaizumi starts, but Matsukawa's hand on his shoulder--a gentle squeeze--shuts him off.

Nobody insists, and just like he had said, Oikawa waits outside the room. He crosses his arms across his chest, counts the seconds like a chore, and ignores the faint throb in his knee.

-

He comes back. Of course, he does. He says he is a close friend, gives the nurses his best impression of a genuinely sad and defeated smile.

He has a bouquet of assorted flowers in his hand, a _"Get well soon"_ card that he didn't write and that he doesn't care about. When he opens the door and walks in, he throws it on Ushijima's bed.

Ushijima doesn't flinch, but he blinks, silently stares at Oikawa's stiff silhouette standing on the other side of the end of his white bed.

Oikawa swears Ushijima can hear the loud beating of his raging heart. The room is sickeningly quiet, the walls are white, and he's not the one with a messed up leg but he feels just as trapped.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" he snarls. It's maybe the first time he initiates conversation.

"I'm sorry?"

"I didn't beat you yet, you didn't have the right to!" he gestures with his hand to Ushijima's broken bones, patched up in white, too.

"I didn't mean for this to-"

"I didn't beat you yet!" he repeats angrily, "I didn't beat you yet. I didn't beat you yet. I didn't beat-"

-

Iwaizumi wonders why Oikawa hasn't showed up at school today, he texts him. All he gets is a _'I'm not feeling well today, Iwa-chan. I'm counting on you for your notes. (´ω｀★)’_

-

He ends up on the chair next to Ushijima's bed. His breathing is uneven, and his fingers are shaking against his forehead. The only thing he hears, the only thing he feels, is the frantic hammering of his heart. He thinks it has managed to drop to his stomach.

(Or is it between his ears? Maybe it is squeezed between the veins in his wrists. He doesn't know. He feels it right to the tips of his toes. He's an open nerve.)

Beneath the surface, above the stubborn rage inside his body, the voice is deep. He can't make out the words at first.

"You shouldn't give up," it says, "this has nothing to do with you."

It isn't until a hand reaches out--a hand that he slaps away violently--that he dares to look at him again.

Ushijima carefully places his hand on his thigh again. Oikawa can see it redden as the seconds tick and the minutes stretch and bleed into an unbearable silence.

"I don't know what you were thinking when coming here, and to tell you the truth," Ushijima stops, turns his left hand to stare at his calloused palm, "I don't think you not being able to beat me matters."

Oikawa is silent.

"I'm out. It's as simple as that. I will never win again, and I will never lose again."

-

Iwaizumi doesn't notice a change in Oikawa's behavior after that; he doesn't notice a change in Oikawa's regular practice, either. He is always there before the rest of the team, with the same fake-cheerful expression plastered all across his face.

He notices the change when they're facing an opponent. Oikawa isn't as fired up as he used to be.

-

"You, on the other hand," Ushijima rests his hand on its previous spot again, "you're still standing. You're excellent, you are young, and your body can still keep up."

"I don't need to hear this from you," he tsks the words out of his clenched jaw.

"Oikawa, let go of your childishness for once. I was never the reason why your growth was hindered. Beating me won't magically grant you wings, let go. Understand your issue," his tone is low and firm, and his eyes are barely slits.

It sends shivers down Oikawa's spine, and for the first time ever, Ushijima makes him feel like a grounded kid.

"I'm not going to stand on a court again, you won't see me on the other side. See for yourself if you can fly with your current team's ability."

-

He can't fly. Karasuno does, but Oikawa leaves with his head held high.

-

He meets Ushijima in one of the hallways of the gymnasium; he had suspected he'd be here to watch the finals along with his defeated team.

Aobajousai took two sets from Shiratorizawa. But Oikawa felt empty when he walked back to the locker rooms. No sense of accomplishment, the match itself felt more like a chore. It was yesterday.

He is no longer using a crutch, but Oikawa can tell that he leans his weight more on his right leg.

"A word of advice, Oikawa. Stay the course."

It almost startles him. His eyes snap back to Ushijima's face and he parts his lips but no words come out.

"There are places where you can perform to the fullest of your ability," the words are spoken with no ill intent, they are light, and Oikawa thinks Ushijima sounds like he doesn't have regrets. “Make the right choices.”

"I know, Ushijima. I know," Oikawa says, and for the first time, he gives him a genuine smile. "You'll hear of me in the future."

"I know I will."

Oikawa doesn’t have regrets, either.

-

He does hear of him, quite a few times to say the least. He talks to him often, texts exchanged, short phone calls where their voices are strained. He reads about him too.

Oikawa Tooru is a worldwide known setter now. He carries white and red behind his back.

This time, though. This time, he gets him pressed against his small apartment's door in Osaka as it slams shut under the weight.

Oikawa's lips are insistent, and Ushijima parts his for him. His hands are roamers, and Ushijima molds his body against his. Ushijima doesn't understand, but he doesn't reject him either.

Between sloppy kisses, Oikawa throws words.

"I. Am. An. Olympian. Now."

Ushijima curls his fingers around messy brown strands, and against Oikawa's pulse, he whispers "I know you are. I have always known you could be."


End file.
